Mägo de Oz is a very popular folk/power metal band from Spain. Its origins date back to 1989 when drummer Txus di Fellatio (yes, that’s how he calls himself) decided to steal the name of L. Frank Baum’s tale of yellow brick roads and green evil witches and add an umlaut to it to name his band. Through the following years the oral sex enthusiast and his crew found success in their native Spain and eventually released their breakthrough album
La Leyenda de la Mancha; an ambitious concept album about the classic of Western literature Don Quixote. Inspired by the success of this album, they aimed to create something that few bands try (either because they don’t want to or because the record label doesn’t allow them): a double album. And not only that, but an album that’s BOTH a double album and a concept album. Oh, my panty soaking God, aren’t Mägo de Oz the most creative, innovative and talented band ever?
No, they are not.
You see, this album is supposed to be a concept album, but you wouldn’t know that by just listening to the songs themselves. The story goes more or less like this: There is this dystopian future in which people have lost their free will and are pretty much enslaved by a powerful nation named Satania (an overdone science fiction cliché). Suddenly, a group of rebels not satisfied with having Satania rule upon them (how they became rebels in the first place I don’t know, since people are not supposed to have free will anymore) find a CD-ROM telling the story of two guys who go in a journey in which they see all kinds of weird sh*t. And what is that weird sh*t that they see through their travels? You guessed, the songs themselves.
The reason why this album can’t really be called a concept album is because, instead of narrating a story through the songs, the members of Mägo de Oz wrote a bunch of songs totally unrelated to one another and then made up a story to try to bind them all together. As a result, the story is told not through the lyrics, but through liner notes in the album booklet next to the lyrics, with only the songs “Satania” and “Finisterra” bearing any relevance to the plot. Want to know how the band achieved this? Just listen.
Rust in Peace, by
Megadeth. You think it isn’t a concept album? Well, there was this soldier fighting in the “Holy Wars” that suddenly got attacked by aliens that escaped from “Hangar 18.” These aliens were told by the evil alien overlord to “Take No Prisioners” and just kill all the humans. The soldier soon learns that the only way to defeat the aliens is by mastering the long forgotten “Five Magics.” However, the aliens infect the sorceress that knows these magics with a deadly alien disease and the soldier has to give her poison because “Poison was the Cure.” Thanks to this, the sorceress, whose name we now learn is “Lucretia,” manages to survive and teaches the soldier the most powerful spell ever, the “Tornado of Souls.” The soldier goes where the aliens are and recites the spell, which is actually a summoning spell that brings forth the almighty “Dawn Patrol.” They kill all the aliens and save Earth. And the ship of the aliens is left forgotten to “Rust in Peace.” See, I just made a concept album using the Mägo de Oz method.
However, I wouldn’t mind the whole “let’s make a stupid incoherent story to make this pass as a concept album” thing if the songs were actually good. Sadly most of them are not. This album has three great songs conveniently placed one after the other: “Fiesta Pagana” (“Pagan Party”) is a neat folk metal song with a really catchy guitar solo and lyrics denouncing the hypocrisy of the Church. “El Que Quiera Entender Que Entienda” (“He Who Wants to Understand Will Understand”) is more power metal sounding and has some impressive keyboard work (the lyrics are about gay pride and coming out of the closet, but I won’t make fun of that lest I be labeled as homophobic). “Los Renglones Torcidos de Dios” (“The Twisted Sentences of God”) is a melancholic power ballad with a really cool guitar riff that almost sounds like Testament in their softest moments. It also has some pretty good guitar solos and although the violin is a bit overused, it doesn’t sound out of place. Another song worth mentioning is “Conxuro (Da Queimada),” which is a cool interlude kind of track. It is nothing but a weird spell read in Latin over heavy guitars, however it creates a nice scary atmosphere. Sadly, that atmosphere disappears the nanosecond the song is over and the next one begins.
Most of the songs beside those four are pretty much boring and uninteresting. Some repeat the same formula of the violinist showing off, the singer yelling high notes, the guitarists playing power chords, the bassist following the guitarists and the drummer keeping a simple beat (“La Danza del Fuego,” “Hasta que el Cuerpo Aguante,” “La Santa Compañia”). Others are soft, dull, cheesy ballads with pianos or acoustic guitars and the odd folk sounds (“Duerme,” “Maite Zaitut,” “Tres Tristes Tigres,” “A Costa da Morte” and “Es Hora de Marchar,” a cute song written by the drummer and dedicated to his mother, even though he prefers having “suck penis” as his last name over the one his parents gave him). “Prólogo” is, as the title says, a short prologue with a kid claiming that humans are vile creatures due to their fondness for snacks and idle chat. “Satania” sounds like
Walls of Jericho-era
Helloween (with violins) for the first two minutes or so, before descending into folkish cheesiness. “La Cruz de Santiago” could pass as a good power metal song (with violins) if the singer's voice wasn't so annoying and overdramatic. “Astaroth” has some neat female vocals but otherwise sounds like a mediocre Candlemass rip-off (with violins). And “Finisterra” is like three or four different songs that don’t flow very well crammed together, with a choir singing “Oh Finis, Oh Terra” so many times that you’ll hear it in your dreams (or nightmares).
This album still has three songs that I haven’t mentioned. These are by far the most grating, annoying or blatantly stupid this album has to offer. The least worst is “Kelpie” which is basically a ruined Jethro Tull cover. I’m not the biggest fan of Ian Anderson but I admit that his folkish voice sounds great with the music of the ‘Tull. Here, his voice is replaced by an irritatingly high power metal voice. Otherwise, the song is the same as the original except with palm muted heavy guitars. “El Señor de los Gramillos,” whose title is an idiotic pun of “El Señor de los Anillos” (“The Lord of the Rings”) and “Gramillos” (diminutive of grams, commonly used when referring to drugs such as cocaine), is an annoying glam metal song with extremely stupid lyrics (and with violins!). Lastly, “Polla Dura no Cree en Dios” (“Hard Penis Doesn’t Believe in God”... yes, that’s what it means) is so repugnant I can’t even describe it, so I’ll just say that its incredibly retarded title is actually the best thing about it, so if you are a masochist or just hate your sense of hearing, you right ahead and listen to it.
Finally, the cover art of the album… It has
Venom’s logo in it. That’s the only good thing I can say about it.
The members of Mägo de Oz are pretty much average musicians. The most talented member of the band if the violinist, and still he would get his arse kicked by a girl (that girl is
Emilie Autumn). The guitarists can come up with a good riff or solo every now and then but for the most part just play power chords, and even Janick Gers would slay them in a guitar contest without them even standing a chance. The singer sounds good sometimes but is also capable of making you wish you were deaf with some of his power metal high screams, so beware. This band has been labeled as the best thing that has come out of Spain. I honestly consider Héroes del Silencio to be far better than these guys, although I’m not a fan of neither band. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go hear Megadeth’s timeless concept album
Rust in Peace.
